


They Say that Love is Forever

by orphan_account



Series: Phantasmagorical [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Creature!Dan, M/M, Oh yeah title credit to sws bless them, angel!Dan, uuuuuuuh idek guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 12:09:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4262790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Prompt:</b> A fic based off the word '<a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/phantasmagorical">phantasmagorical</a>' (aka Dan turns into an angel)<br/>-<br/>Dan opens the door to his apartment, his footsteps echoing through the room. He walks over to the mattress in the middle, sitting down and looking around.</p><p>It’s empty, just like him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Say that Love is Forever

**Author's Note:**

> i kind of took the prompt a bit too literally oops

Dan opens the door to his apartment, his footsteps echoing through the room. He walks over to the mattress in the middle, sitting down and looking around.

It’s empty, just like him.

His previous boyfriend kicked him out when he was drunk and Dan’d rather stay here with nothing than go back to him

He’s tired of everything; he works a lot nowadays and his muscles ache from the strain of bending over. His back itches and he tries to scratch at it, but nothing seems to work. He decides to try and sleep it off, and his eyelids close with the idle hope of a better future.

 

* * * * *

The sunshine falls on the dusty floor, particles floating around in an attempt to fill the room. He opens his eyes and sits upright. He seems too big for the space around him.

He walks into the bathroom, stretching and running a hand over his face. The stubble scratches his palm but there’s nothing he can do. He can’t afford to buy a razor.

He squeezes the last bit of tooth paste out of the tube before throwing it into the trash can and swearing.  He can’t afford to buy tooth paste either. He stares into the broken mirror as he brushes his teeth, the lines making his face look distorted. It’s one of the only things he owns.

He makes a face when his back start to itch again, but he can’t reach the spot and it annoys him. Rolling his shoulders, he puts on some clothes and grabs his coat, walking out of the apartment to work.

 

* * * * *

  
His boss tells him to go home early, he’s been pissed the entire day but that’s just because the itching doesn’t seem to stop. It’s starting to hurt, like something inside of him is trying to claw its way out.

Maybe it’s hoping it’ll find happiness when it leaves him. It wouldn’t surprise him.

His apartment still looks the same. The picture frames on the wall are crooked, slumping downwards like his shoulders but he can’t be bothered to fix it.

He falls face-first on his mattress, burying his head in the dirty sheets. Pain is stabbing through his back, fighting its way down his ribcage and up his neck until his vision becomes white.

 

* * * * *

  
When he wakes up, there’s nothing wrong with him. The itching is gone and he rubs the tear stains off his cheeks. He stretches, feeling the muscles ripple. He freezes, staring over his back.

There are two large white wings, a sharp contrast against his sheets and he has to blink as his eyes adjust to the light reflecting off of them. He pinches himself, but they’re still there when he opens his eyes. They seem to glow, pure white and slumped slightly forward like his shoulders.

He lets out a loud laugh at the irony of the situation.

 

* * * * *

 

His wings flutter vigorously, pulling him to his drawer. When he opens it, he finds a bow and arrow. His palm itches and he reaches out, touching it. Feathers brush against the wall excitedly, pulsing with energy.

He shoots an arrow at the broken mirror, shards of glass falling on the floor. He walks into the bathroom to clean them up, but decides to leave them on the floor.

It’s not significant anyway.

 

* * * * *

 

He watches two girls walk down an alley through the crack of a door, trying to stay hidden. His wings shift restlessly against his back and he lays a hand on the arrow, grabbing his bow as the giggling friends walk past him.

He hits one in the back and watches his arrow disappear, replacing it with a glow that only he can see. The girls stop laughing, and one pushes the other against the wall, kissing her fiercely. He diverts his eyes and retreats into the shadow.

The ache in his back seems to have moved to his heart.

 

* * * * *

 

He follows his wings to an underground party. Nobody seems to be able to see them, and they flutter happily when he shoots an arrow into the couple in the back.

The bass thumps heavily, his heart beat in sync with the rest of them. He loses himself in it; it makes him feel like he’s someone.

Hands are skimming over him, touching his chest, his hair, his face, but he doesn’t mind. A hand jolts over his back and he jerks back, heart beating erratically. He shoots an arrow at another couple and flees, leaving a lone feather behind.

 

* * * * *

 

The coffee shop is green and the people are nice. It feels more like home than his apartment does.

The employee hands him his coffee, smiling at him and he tries to smile back. It’s like the mirror is fixed again.

Two friends in the booth next to him are sitting opposite to each other, enjoying the silence. He stills, his hand grabbing an arrow.

If he can’t be loved, at least they can.

 

* * * * *

 

It tears him apart. The pain in his heart is long gone, leaving a hole where it sat.

He wants the love he gives to them.

The arrow is already in his hand, ready to use. His wings try to protest, but he doesn’t listen.

The glass shards are still in his bathroom and he wonders if he should clean them up as a last act of kindness. He doesn’t.

The point scrapes over his throat. He presses it harder against his neck, blood trickling down the skin. It stains the mattress, red mixing with grey and brown.

He looks at it for a second and smiles, pushing the arrow into himself and falling onto the dirty mattress.

At least he tried.

 

* * * * *

 

The mattress is still dirty, still filled with stains and smelly, but something has changed.

There’s a boy hovering above him, blue eyes staring concernedly down at him and he laughs, pulling the boy down for a kiss. The boy’s hand brushes over his chest, landing on his heart and staying there, trying to soothe the ache. Dan smiles.

He does.

**Author's Note:**

> right so that was something? please tell me what you think ^^ i want to write this from phil’s pov too but i need some motivation help... also tell me what you think the importance of the mirror was pls i want to know if i can write stuff
> 
> i hope you liked it ^^
> 
> this was also posted on [my tumblr](http://ninchuser.tumblr.com)


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